When the Night Dies
by PryzmKess
Summary: Complete  hints of AC. Rated M for graphic references to rape and violence.  When Angel discovers a horrible secret about Cordelia, what will he do?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This was a challenge on a list I was on long ago. This fiction has graphic references to sex and rape. As a note, I've attempted to touch on the real horror of rape, so you are warned. This is only a two-part fiction.

When the Night Dies

I'll never know what would have happened if I hadn't heard that soft moan. I might have walked on, and someone else might have found her. Then, the question didn't bother me quite so badly. But tonight, as I watch a movie with her, it bothers me a lot. Some nights, I do consider how different things would have turned out, had I done things differently, but I had never really thought about that night again. True to my promise, I had tried to forget that it ever happened, but tonight, I find myself studying her profile as she eats popcorn, wondering how different things would have been if I hadn't heard that moan. Just thinking about it takes me back to that dark night…

Angel left Buffy's house in a bad mood, his scowl darker than the new moon hiding overhead. Hiding, just like Buffy did when she didn't want to talk. He angrily cut through the cemetery on his way home, sure that he could handle anything foolish enough to bother him.

He heard the moan when he was nearly out of the cemetery. He stopped and listened, but he didn't hear it again. He was about to leave when he caught the sharp scent of blood and sex in the air.

Angel froze in mid-step. In Sunnydale, blood was never split on accident. Someone needed help. The wind was blowing from his left, so he turned and crept through the bushes, following the scent to a crypt. Now, he could not only hear the soft moaning, but the sobs that were intertwined within the moans.

Angel put his nose to the ground, sniffing. He could smell vodka and orange juice, and the blood and sex that were carried along with one another like lovers in a bed. Underneath all that, he could smell the man himself, a mortal who was stumbling with drink—and something else.

Angel stood up, following the sob-moans into the dark crypt. His dark eyes could make out the crumpled figure in the corner. It was a woman, huddled in on herself in a pose all too familiar to Angel; he could remember leaving many a woman in that position as his darker self. But, he reminded himself, he was Angel, not Angelus, and he could help this person.

The sobs and moans had stopped, and Angel realized that she was aware of him. He saw her ball up even tighter, and could hear her choking as she tried to be completely quiet. Angel cleared his throat softly and said, "Ma'am, can I help you?"

"A-a-a-angel?" the figure sobbed, and Angel started as he recognized Cordelia's voice.

"Cordelia?" he whispered to her as he moved closer, his voice dropping illogically, as if whispering would erase this. Angel had no great love for Buffy's snobby friend, but no one deserved…this.

"Go. Away," she whispered back, her words chopped and caught in her throat by her sobs.

"Cordy," he whispered, "you need help. I can call the police or your parents—"

"No!" she nearly shouted. "Don't tell anyone!" she stumbled to her knees and pointed her finger at him for effect as she stridently ordered his silence. They stared at each other, each as determined as the other to have their way. Angel knew how badly she was hurt when her face crumpled and she moaned, "Please. Please, I don't want anyone to know."

Angel sighed. "You realize," he murmured to her, "that if we don't take this to the police, he'll never get caught."

She stared at him with broken eyes as she whispered, "I don't want anyone to know."

Angel nodded and offered her his hand. She looked at it like a snake, and then gently grasped it. Angel hadn't realized how fragile her hand was until now. He wondered if her assailant had thought the same as he had violated her, and then shoved the thought away. That was an Angelus thought, not his own. Angel would never think that.

It was a good thing that she had accepted his hand; her legs didn't support her. As she shakily stood up, Angel caught a quick glimpse under her skirt; her underwear was gone, and there was a white trail of something mixing with blood trailing down her leg.

He ignored both as he helped her to stand. When she was upright, she pulled away from him. He didn't argue with her, but he did keep an eye on her as she stumbled out of the crypt.

"I'll walk you home," he offered. She looked at him, completely startled. "What," he tried to gently joke, "haven't you ever had a guy offer to walk you home?"

"I…I… I don't want to go home," she whispered, and he could see fresh tears trembling in her eyes. "I couldn't, not looking like this without an explanation…" she trailed off, and he saw the tears begin to spill over.

"Hey," he murmured, "its ok—"

"No!" she snapped at him. "It's not ok, and it never will be again! Never! I can never live this down! Cordelia Chase, trapped and ra—" Her sentence ended with a jerk as she clamped her hand over her mouth.

He let her cry, the tears spilling over her face and fingers as she sobbed desperately, but silently, her hand holding the sobs in. After she started to calm down, he said gently, "I meant that you could come to my house, instead of going home."

She looked at him, and he saw fear. He smiled as comfortingly as he could and said, "I won't hurt you, Cordy, I promise. I will never hurt you." He watched as the fear in her eyes fled and was replaced by pain and grief. She nodded after a moment and he touched her arm to turn her.

She slapped his hand away. "Please," she moaned, "please don't touch me. I don't want anyone touching me. I've been touched…" her voice faded away as her eyes darkened with pain again. Angel carefully gestured which way to go, ignoring her new tears so that he wouldn't embarrass her anymore than he already had.

He scouted ahead for her, and it was a good thing that he did. Once Angel stopped her from crossing a parking lot just as a group of students from Sunnydale High walked in front of them, chasing away their spooks and fears with laughing and joking. If only they knew what darkness and horrors existed in the night.

They arrived at Angel's huge house, and he held the door for her as she slid in. In the false brightness of the room, Angel noticed that she had blood running down her leg. He bit his lip and looked away as Angelus hummed in the back of his mind. "I have a shower back here; you might want to clean up…" his voice sounded too big in the room, and he let his sentence drop away awkwardly.

She nodded eagerly, and he showed her into the back bathroom with its full tub and shower. He brought her several towels, showed her how to work the antique knobs on the tub, and left the room with relief. He sank into a chair, wondering how Cordy planned to keep this a secret forever. Her strange behavior was going to be noticed soon.

He kept an eye on the time, worried that someone would call, Giles or Willow or Buffy on the phone, asking, "Have you seen Cordelia, her parents are really worried…" He wasn't sure he could lie to any of them, not for Cordy.

It was his concern over the time that made him realize that she had been in the shower for over an hour. With a touch of worry, he stepped over to the door and listened. All he heard was the shower. He tapped on the door, and called out softly. "Cordy? Are you ok, do you need something?" Still no answer. He took a nervous breath, wondering if he should check up on her, but a vision of Cordy hurting or killing herself in his bathtub flashed though his mind, and that resolved his quandary. He didn't want to explain to Buffy how Cordelia had been found dead in his shower.

He opened the door, mildly surprised that it wasn't locked. Cordy was sitting on the bathtub floor, the water shooting out of the showerhead and down her naked back. Angel called again, "Cordy?" She didn't move.

Angel stepped forward and touched her shoulder. She flinched slightly, but that was all. Angel blinked in surprise; despite the heat of the shower, her skin was ice-cold. She was in shock, he realized, and snatched a towel off the pile he had left her. He held it under the spray of hot, nearly scalding water, soaking it and his shirt, and then wrapped it around her. And then he waited, eyes closed, ready to help her when she accepted it.

After a time he heard the water stop, and Angel opened his eyes. She was standing up, holding the wet towel around her awkwardly. Angel held up a dry one and turned his head. After a few soft movements, she said, "Ok."

He looked back carefully, sure that she had covered up, but also sure that he didn't want to embarrass her further if something wasn't quite secured. She was covered, and looking at her clothes disdainfully. Angel looked at them. They were dirty and smudged with mud, sweat and worse. "You can wash those in my machine," he offered.

Cordy picked them up quickly, and followed Angel to the machines. She threw them in, and brushed her hands against one another as if the dirt were sticking to them. Angel watched her, and then remembered that he had extra clothes. "Um, would you like something else to wear?"

She nodded bleakly. He sighed, wondering if she really could pretend that this hadn't happened. He went into his bedroom, and pulled some clothes out—a shirt, some old shorts, socks and his warmest blanket. He turned around to back to the living room, and jumped back in surprise when he saw she was right behind him. "Cordy, I thought that you were waiting in the living room for me," Angel said, his surprise making his voice harsher than he meant it to be.

Cordy's eyes filled with tears as she whispered, "I'm sorry, I just didn't want to be left alone…"

Angel gave her a reassuring smile. "Oh, that's ok. You just startled me." He chuckled weakly, not sure if he should follow his joke through, but he pushed it out. "Wow, I bet that you never thought that you could scare me, did you?"

She gave a weak grin, obviously trying. "Yeah, I never thought that would happen."

Angel handed her the clothes. "Here, I'll step right outside the door, and you can change, and then… um, we could watch a movie?" He could have kicked himself. She didn't need to watch movies. She needed rest, and a doctor, but he didn't think that he could drag her to either.

"Ok," she whispered, taking the clothes carefully. As Angel started to leave, she grabbed his arm quickly and blurted out, "You'll be right outside, you promise?"

Angel nodded. "I swear it. Cross my heart and hope to be staked."

Cordelia frowned, and for the first time all night, Angel saw the old Cordy. "That's not funny," she growled. "I don't ever want—" she blushed and turned away from him. "I'll change."

Angel went outside and waited. After a few moments, she stepped out, his clothes hanging off of her ridiculously. "Well?" she spun in front of him, her smile forced but present, "how do I look?"

Angel gave her his best smile and said, "Fabulous, my lady. Your couch awaits!" As he finished the sentence, he swept into a ridiculous, exaggerated bow.

Cordelia actually giggled, and Angel allowed himself to hope that he could help her recover. "Why, thank you, kind knight!" She gave an awkward curtsey, and nearly fell. Angel reached out and caught her arm. She stared at him, her nose inches from his face, and then she kissed him.


	2. Chapter 2

Angel pulled back almost immediately, but Cordy held on to him, burying her face in his neck. "Please," she whispered, "please hold me! Please I have to know…" her voice broke, and she started crying again, sobbing so hard that Angel couldn't understand her anymore.

"Cordelia, I'm flattered, but I'm…Buffy—" Cordelia hit him, her open hand slapping across his chest.

"Don't! Don't say her name! Don't you dare!" Cordy screamed at him, pushing herself out of his arms. "Don't throw Miss Perfect Demon Hunter in my face. Oh, she's so perfect! She's so wonderful!"

"Now look—" Angel started to growl, but Cordy's voice cut through his.

"No, you look! I'm so tired of having to compare myself to her. I'm so sick of Buffy-this, Buffy-that. You, Xander, Oz, Willow, everyone at this fucking school loves her! Well, I don't, but that should be apparent to anyone." Cordy broke off her tirade with a sudden mirthless laugh. "Do you know what's the worst part? Until tonight, none of that really bothered me. Oh, it annoyed me, but now, now I have to face her after some sicko— After I got—"

Angel watched her dissolve into tears again, as she folded her arms over her chest, hugging herself as she continued, "I have to look at that beautiful blond face and know that she's never going to be used, and she'll always have the knowledge of being safe, the strength that I don't have. If I had had her strength, then he couldn't have hurt me. Oh, sure, she's going to die sometime, but you know? Death doesn't sound so bad right now."

Angel reached out and rubbed Cordy's arm, trying to stop her tears. "Cordy, why did you kiss me? I thought that you didn't want to be touched."

Cordy shook her head, but answered anyway. "I feel so ugly. I feel like a piece of used garbage. I don't know what I was thinking. I know you're completely into Buffy, but I feel so…" her voice trailed into nothingness as she sat down on the floor.

Angel looked at her for a long, long time. Finally, he kneeled next to her and asked, "Cordy, what can I do to make you feel safe again?"

Cordy looked up at him, and blinked. "What?"

Angel closed his eyes, aware that what he was about to say could come back to bite him the ass. "Name anything that I can do that will make you feel safe again," he said, feeling the weight of his words hanging on him.

Cordy stared at him for a long time, and then said, "Two things. First catch that bastard and bring him here. I want to beat the shit out of him."

Angel took a deep breath. "And the second."

Cordy bit her lip and whispered, "Please kiss me, just once, just for me. This has nothing about Buffy, and nothing to do with breaking you guys up. I need to feel that a man could desire me again." Tears formed in her eyes as she whispered, "I feel used and dirty, and I can't imagine any man ever wanting me again."

Angel studied her eyes; she seemed sincere. All she needed, all she was seeking, was some comfort. So Angel leaned forward and cupped her chin gently, pulling her lips to his. He concentrated on the kiss being tender and desiring, letting it tell Cordy things that he could never say out loud; that she was a beautiful woman, that if it weren't for Buffy, if things had been different, they could have been different. As his lips moved over hers, he tried to tell her that she would find someone who wanted her more than Angel wanted Buffy, that she would be loved in a way that she could only imagine right now. As he touched her tongue gently with his own, he tried to make her understand that she had nothing to fear, that he would make sure that no one ever hurt her again, that what she had experienced tonight was a vile crime committed by the darkest of depraved souls, and that not all men – that this man – would not use her so.

He pulled away from her gently, and asked, "Better?" When she nodded, he stood up. "I'll be back soon."

She looked scared, but she nodded, pulling his blanket around her shoulders. He looked back once as he left, and she looked so small and alone, that it almost broke his heart. But he had a job to do.

Finding the guy was pathetically easy. Angel went back to the crypt where he had found Cordy and tracked the guy from there to his house. It was so easy to knock on the door and tempt the guy down onto his porch; he was still drunk.

Cordy jumped when Angel shoved his front door open, muscling the man into the room. The prick collapsed on the floor, trembling from the cold and lack of clothing, slurring, "Hey, where am I?"

Cordy stood up, dropping her blanket to the floor as she walked forward into the moonlight. The man stared at her, sobriety coming too slowly, and whispered, "Oh, my god. Please, lady, I'm sorry. Please don't hurt me."

"That's funny," Cordelia said conversationally. "I believe that I said the very same thing to you." She brought her hand from behind her back then, and Angel saw his knife.

"Cordy?" he said with a calm he didn't feel. "What are you doing?"

She looked at him with rage and vengeance in her eyes. "I'm going to do to him what he did to me." She looked down at the trembling man frozen with his fear. "I'm going to stick my _knife_ in and out of him until he stops screaming and prays for it to just end."

"Oh, please," the man begged. "Please. I won't do it again."

"No," Cordy whispered, "you won't." And then she lunged forward, her scream of rage overwhelming his howl of terror. Angel watched as she stabbed the man again and again. Long after the body had stopped moving, long after Cordy was drenched in blood, he watched and let her swing. It was only when he realized that her blows were becoming wild and she was prone to hurt herself did he step up and grab her wrist.

"Let me go!" Cordy tried to shriek, but her voice rasped hoarsely. Angel pulled the knife from her hand and said, "Cordy, he's dead."

Cordy looked at the shell on the floor, and started to cry. Angel just wrapped his arms around her, supporting her as her legs gave way. He dropped the knife on the floor behind her, and then kicked it into the corner. "It didn't work," Cordy said into Angel's shoulder after several minutes of crying. "I don't feel safer."

Angel closed his eyes as he realized what had to be done. "It will, in a little while. I promise," he soothed her, stroking her hair. He picked her up and carried her to his couch, setting her down on the black leather.

She looked up at him, like a child desperately trying to believe in Santa Claus. "Really?" she whispered.

Angel nodded. "Cross my heart. Now go take another shower, and let me take the garbage out."

He had no problem hiding the body, and no problems with what just happened. After he had buried the body, he stood over the man's grave and said, "Look, I know that you probably won't understand this. But if you rape my friends, you earn my wrath. Next life, stay out of our way." He spit on the man's grave and turned and walked away, feeling vindicated.

Cordy was sitting up on his couch, but asleep, when Angel came back in. He smiled and settled down next to her, wrapping an arm around her protectively. He just sat there and hushed her nightmares, or encouraged her dreams with his voice for the rest of the night, watching over her in sleep as he would in Los Angeles someday.

After a while, he realized that the sun was going to come up soon, and he had to act quickly if his plan was to work. He gently got off the couch, and pulled her clothes out of the dryer. He hated wake her, but he needed to have her home before dawn—he gently shook her awake.

"Come on, let's get you home before someone worries about you," he whispered to her, and helped her sit up. She stumbled drowsily into the bathroom, and came out again dressed. Angel took her hand, and walked her home in the early dawn light.

On her porch, he pulled her to a stop, and said, "There's one more thing." He looked around quickly to make sure no one was near. "Do you feel safe?"

She smiled at him, a brave, winning, Queen C smile. "Not in the slightest. I don't think I will ever again."

Angel led her over to an iron bench, and set her down. He stood behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. "Cordelia, do me a favor. Close your eyes. Are they closed?" When she nodded, he leaned down and whispered in her ear, "Cordelia Chase, FORGET. And I promise, I'll forget too. This never happened."

She slumped under his hands, and he caught her and gently laid her down on the bench. "Sweet dreams, Cordy," he whispered to her and dropped a gentle kiss on her temple before he stepped off the porch. He had to run all the way home to beat the dawn, and he fell into a sleep plagued by dreams of Cordelia and Buffy.

It had been the beginning of the end. After that, Buffy and I had had real problems. I sometimes wonder how different things would have been if I hadn't heard that little moan. I wonder if Buffy and I would have made it. I was never able to get Cordy out of my head out after that; she was there between Buffy and I. I thought that I had left her behind, like I had Buffy, until I ran into her at that fateful party in LA. I never thought that I would see her again, and I certainly never expected to be so close to her.

But somehow, I'm happier here, sitting on the couch, loving a woman I can't have more than I ever loved Buffy, who I had definitely had. I know that loving someone more than your soul mate sounds wrong, but Cordelia is more than a love, an obsession. She's a friend, a confidant, and a rock to lean on.

A sudden soft whimper distracts me from my thoughts. I glance at Cordy and realize that she is staring at the television screen, frozen. Her eyes are wide and terrified, and her hands are shaking, dropping popcorn all over the couch.

I glance at the television screen in time to see a girl being held down by several men as another—

My supernatural speed helps me once again as I snatch the remote and hit stop. I grab the empty tape case; the words 'Flesh and Blood' are emblazoned on the cover.

Cordelia turns to me slowly, and I can see that all the hurt and fear and pain that I had erased from her that dark night is back. Her voice shakes and tears threaten as she whispers, "Angel?"

Finis


End file.
